


Promises

by Mamajo



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:11:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamajo/pseuds/Mamajo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To go on after this is pretty much the worst part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I found one of my old short stories. I posted it as part of a challenge back in December 2011. It's a sad story, but I like it.

You died on a Thursday.

The sun was shining, no clouds in sight. Everybody thought is was destined, the way you always talked about dying like this. 

You were my hero. My comfortable pair of shoes. The fresh cup of coffee in the morning, that was always waiting for me. Didn't matter if you came home late from work. It was our time of the day we'd spend together.

We fit. From the very first moment of standing in line at the Starbuck's counter, hearing you laugh behind me, because the barrista just told everyone they were out of coffee beans. Apparently there had been an incident with the delivery truck. 

„This is amazing. Only my second day on the job in this town, and they already ran out of the good stuff“, you chuckled.

I turned around to see who the pleasant voice belonged to, and there you were. All hazel eyes and bright smiles. I blinked up at you for a moment. Then said:

„Oh, this isn't the first time. Happens at least once a month.“

You looked at me with crinkled eyes and widening dimples.

„Why is that?“

I shrugged. „They're too lazy to change suppliers. And everyone expects it already, so it's just become one of those little town thingies.“

You threw back your head and laughed. I loved the sound of your laugh. Free and all consuming, showing a zeal for life, I've encountered only in a few others before you.

That were the first words we spoke to another. Luckily many more followed.

Being married to you was the best part. Stumbling over your dirty socks, trying not to curse your cleaning habits (or lack thereof), and finally finding you reading one of your many books in the den, comfortably snuggled into the afghan your mom made you, sipping at a cup of hot chocolate, your silver rimmed glasses perched on the tip of your nose.

I could have watched you all day and night, if it wasn't for actually having to work sometime.

Your dedication to your job was, what made me fall in love with you. 

I still know the exact minute I realised I was going to ask you to marry me. You just rescued a kitten out of the neighbour's tree, and held it so gently in your work roughend hands. You were murmuring softly to it, trying to reassure it. And nearly fell of the ladder, coming down. You managed to catch the next rung, and the first thing you did? You cooed to the kitten.

„Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?“

I loved your voice. It could calm down the meanest of dogs, the most spooked of horses, even a wild boar once.

That's when I knew.

I asked you then and there.

You smiled, slow and happy, sparkles in your eyes. And said yes.

On our second anniversary you asked me, to go on, to try and live a happy life, if ever anything should happen to you.

„Why did you say that“, I asked, shocked.

You kissed me and asked again. So I answered you, that I would try.

And I did. I had to. 

I promised.


End file.
